


Formalwear

by occasional_boy_reporter



Series: Kinktober 2018 [29]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Formalwear, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Marcus and Enoch get down at a fancy fundraising event.





	Formalwear

  Marcus puts a finger to Enoch’s lips. Enoch sucks it in with a low moan.

  “No! Enoch!” Marcus hisses as he tugs his finger free and places his entire hand to his partner’s mouth in an urgent ‘full stop’. “Shhh!”

  Enoch goes stone still, lips parted and bunched ridiculously and spit beginning to pool in the worst places. Finally he hears it too. The _click_ of heels, mixed with the occasional _clonk_ of a missed step and the uncoordinated shuffle of flat soles grows louder until the sound of a body hitting the wooden door explodes in Enoch and Marcus’ quiet, little room and two intruders come tumbling in with a fit of giggles and overly loud shushing noises.

  “Down,” Marcus whispers frantically into his lover’s ear. “Down, down, down!”

  Enoch squats and then folds his knees obediently, carrying Ren with him. The silk of Ren’s jacket doesn’t make a sound as his back slides down the wall they had been so blissfully making out against ten seconds ago. Once they’ve sunk to the floor with a room full of extra chairs and gym equipment between them and the newcomers, Marcus dares to rise up on Enoch’s lap- using Titan shoulders for balance- and peeks around a spare podium. He can only catch the barest swish of glittery copper but Marcus Ren could recognize that drunken titter anywhere.

  “Aw shit. It’s Ariadne.”

  “What’s she doing here?”

  Marcus arches a brow in the dim light. “Uh, same thing we were doing?”

  There’s just enough moonlight from the high windows to pick up on Enoch’s blush.

   _Fucking cute,_  Marcus thinks about his boyfriend’s inability to remember that other people have sex too. He can’t NOT kiss his adorably flustered Titan.

  Enoch’s a little slow to come along for the ride, not exactly discouraging the Hunter in his lap, but also not hopping on board until two hands scratch at the short curls at the back of his head and twin thumbs rub behind his ears while the barest hint of tongue flicks against his bottom lip. Then he’s basically warm wax for Marcus to play with however he wishes.

  When Marcus leans back against their wall, Enoch tries to follow but finds a halting hand on his chest. A single finger to Marcus’ kiss-slicked lips is a silent reminder and Enoch nods his understanding.

  Of course, the difference is that Enoch Bast thinks the plan is to wait out Ariadne and her guest in silence and Marcus Ren’s plan is to continue quietly where they were, potential witnesses or not.

  Marcus thumbs open the first button of his short collar and Enoch watches with a fretful brow. By the third pearled button, Enoch is glancing back to check on the other party-skippers but Marcus puts an immediate stop to that by tugging on Enoch’s scarf. The Titan almost calls out in protest when he realizes the sharp gold of his victor’s sash has been stolen from it’s carefully hung place beneath his collar and lapels. Race etiquette dictates you only get to wear it in public once and naturally Enoch saved that for tonight, the biggest City fundraiser of the year. But it does look awfully pretty looped haphazardly over the blue of Marcus’ long, open coat. And the soft white of his half-unbuttoned shirt. And tan skin.

  Enoch decides Marcus can wear it for now. As long as he gets to finish undressing his old rival. The buttons are easy, free in seconds. The pants take some negotiating as this is Enoch’s first go at his partner’s formalwear but, eventually- and with a little guidance from Marcus- long straps make it through a series of little loops and the complicated-looking, overlapping fly unwraps as if to present the best gift Enoch’s ever been given.

  Another bang echoes through the room and Enoch twists to find the second best gift he’s ever been given. “Hey, looks like they le-”

  Marcus doesn’t let him finish before he’s back in Enoch’s lap, smashing their mouths together and grinding his dick against the fashionable knot of Enoch’s belt while wrestling muscled arms out of absurdly slim-fitted sleeves. “You better fuck me now, Bast. I don’t know if you’ve been to this party before, but believe me when I say this is a _very_ popular room.”

  “You-” Enoch takes a second to drag his tongue across Marcus’ before shoving the man back just far enough to throw open his own belt and wrench down his zipper, “-couldn’t have mentioned that when we started?”

  “Yeah, well you shouldn’t wear such tight suits,” Marcus growls accusingly between kisses “they make me forgetful.”

  “Of course they do,” Enoch mutters affectionately. He rescues his victory sash from its precarious drape over Marcus’ shoulders and tosses it onto a nearby chair for safety. “If we take off my pants, will that improve your memory?”

  “Doubtful," Marcus admits with a wicked smile. "But it wouldn't hurt to try, right?”

 


End file.
